Saturday, January 31, 2015

These Amsterdam clouds,have nothing on me.No pull, no touch.Total disconnect.

It paints itself in whispers and crow feet,taunting every passerbywith its taut breasts,bold and courageous like any harloton every streeton every man’s lap,waiting for a quick fix,cigarette powder decorating each light,holding on for dear life.

Oh—These Amsterdam clouds,have no thrill,for an old broomlike me.

But your love is infinite,as I carry you around,for six sinful years,through European streets,through years of fears,that my love for you is so complete.

Oh– These Amsterdam clouds,have no thrill,for a lonesome ache,that you weep in me.

About Me

Who am I you ask (or totally aren't)?I am a twenty-four brown-eyed Aruban wanderer, forever questioning where I'm going and where I've been.I know how that sounds, trust me, but it's true! And so me.I'm either stuck in the past or trying to foresee my future, with no luck btw.